battlegroup 31
by charlie plotkin
Summary: The Colonial fleet inadvertly jumps into federation space. The Cylon war extends to include Section 31 of the Federation.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Battle-group 31

Cylon Base City 1:

A group of Cylons are gathered around a terminal. There is an assortment of Cavels, Leobens, Sixes, Threes, Fives, and Eights. Brother Cavel is the first to speak.

"It has been three weeks since our last contact with the Colonial fleet. We must locate and destroy that fleet as soon as possible. They must not be allowed to reach Earth and warn the inhabitants of our arrival. Now, does anyone have an idea as to how we track them down".

After a few minutes of thought, the recently unboxed number Three speaks up.

"I have a plan. The Colonials have been traveling on a steady course. I say that we calculate their next jump position, and then ambush them. We will wipe them out with a single blow".

"I am not arguing with your logic number Three", exclaims one of the Sixes, "but this is not a new plan. We have tried this many times, and each time the humans have slipped through our fingers. Why should this be any different".

"Simple mathematics number Six. In the past, we did not send enough vessels to adequately finish off the humans. This time, I propose a battle group of at least twenty five base ships plus their Raider escorts".

Unexpectedly, a silver hand shoots up from the back of the room. "Pardon my intrusion, but do you know how difficult it is to coordinate twenty five Base Stars at once". The dismayed humanoids look up to see that the speaker is one of their recently sentient Centurions.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion", retorts number Three. "But to answer your question, we will be controlling the Base Stars from here. All you will have to concern yourselves with is controlling the Raiders and launching bordering parties to finish off the survivors. Any other questions?".

"I have one". Simon has just joined the meeting. He looks very displeased with the plan. "The Humans are not as idiotic as you believe. What if they send a Raptor ahead of the rest of the fleet? They can warn Galactica to alter course and your entire plan unravels".

"We will leave a single Raider to hide behind an asteroid or other nearby celestial body. When the Colonial fleet arrives, the Raider will radio back its position and we can jump the baseships in at a moment's notice".

The meeting is adjourned, and the fate of humanity seems sealed. Unknown to the Cyclons, events are in motion that will change the entire course of the war.

Battlestar Galactica, CIC:

Lt. Gaeta is plotting the next jump on the road to Earth. Admiral Adama, President Roslin, and Colonel Tigh march in to the CIC together. Adama is visibly annoyed at the current situation.

"Mr. Gaeta, how much along until you can plot the jump".

"I am calculating as fast as I can, Sir. The jump should be plotted within the next few hours".

" Within the next few hours, we could be jumped by the Cylons. I suggest you calculate faster, Mr. Gaeta".

Calculate faster, that's easy for him to say. For the past three weeks, Gaeta has been feeling the pressure mounting, like a volcano ready to erupt. The immanent threat of a Cylon attack had everyone on edge. Further complicating matters was the seemingly miraculous return of Captain Thrace. Ever since Starbuck had arrived, nearly everyone was suspicious that she was in fact a Cylon. Though they had all appeared to warm up to her over the past three weeks, there was still this unshakeable suspicion of a Cylon trap.

Gaeta felt like screaming at the top of his lungs that he was working as fast as humanly possible, with an emphasis on human. Instead, he simply said "Yes sir".

Just then, Starbuck walked into the CIC."You wanted to see me, Sir".

"Yes Captain, I wanted to discuss returning you to flight status. Over the past few weeks, you've shown that..."

"Don't give me that bullshit". If looks could kill, Admiral Adama would be dead by now. Starbuck was infuriated.

"I beg your pardon, Captain".

"Don't bullshit me, Admiral. You still think I'm a Fraking toaster".

Adama was silent. Of course he thought she was a toaster. People don't come back from the dead. He just couldn't say it. Especially not to Kara, whom he had always treated as daughter.

"I'm not Cylon. I am human. How many times do I have to repeat myself before it sticks in your Fraking thick head".

"Watch your language, Captain. Or I might throw your ass in the brig from the remainder of our trip". An empty threat. He cared too much about Starbuck to let her rot in the brig. "Report to Apollo for flight assignments. That is an order, Captain".

"Yes, Sir".

As Starbuck walked away, a knot grew in the pit of Roslin's stomach. She knew that Bill's feelings towards Starbuck had always clouded his judgement. Now she feared that he had given the Cylons the opportunity they wanted.

"Are you sure she is trustworthy".

"If I didn't, do you think I would have given her a Viper?"

"I know what Captain Thrace means to you Bill. But if she is part of a Cylon trap..."

She didn't have to finish her sentence. The Admiral knew where this was going.

"If I had any reason to suspect Starbuck of being a Cylon, I would put a bullet in her myself".

This answer comforted Laura, but terrified Saul. He wasn't sure if Starbuck was a Cylon either, but he was sure that HE was one. If Bill was willing to execute a woman whom he thought of as a daughter, then would be just as likely to execute his best friend. Being a Cylon was a death sentence in the fleet. Saul knew it, Anders knew it, and so did Galen and Torri. It was just a matter of time before anyone found out, then that would be the end. Fortunately for Sol, he did not have time to think about it for long.

"Sir, calculations completed. We are ready to jump".

"Excellent work Mr. Gaeta. Relay the coordinates to the rest of the fleet. Jump as soon as possible".

"Yes sir".

Half an hour later, all ships reported ready. Adama gives the command: "JUMP". Within seconds, the entire fleet disappears from its previous position, and reappears at the edge of a nebula. Little does anyone in the fleet suspect, that this territory is already occupied.

Alpha Quadrant, USS Goliath, Bridge:

At the edge of Federation space, four starships are on constant patrol. The flagship of this battle group is a Galaxy Class vessel called the USS Goliath. The other three ships are all Nebula class: USS Atlantis, USS Crazy Horse, and USS Excalibur. Crewed by the super secret Section 31, they are the first line of defence of the Federation. Two minutes ago, a mysterious fleet emerged within their patrol area.

"Were the hell did they come from?"

"Unknown, they just sort of appeared".

Admiral Plotkin was getting annoyed at all of these unknowns. As the commander of Section 31, it was his duty to serve as the first line of defence for the United Federation of Planets. He did not like being in the dark. When a large fleet of strange vessels enter Federation territory, he likes to know what he is up against.

Before he can hail the newcomers, twenty five strange vessels appear. They are all of a similar design, yet they differ from the other fleet.

"Signal the other ships, take up battle positions Tango Episelon, put me on a general frequency".

"Yes sir, hailing frequencies open sir".

The admiral stood up. He always liked to stand when addressing other ships, even if they were only one audio.

"This is the USS Goliath to all unidentified vessels. You are entering Federation space. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded".

Cylon Base City 1:

"Who the hell are they?"

When number Three was formulating her plan, she did not count on a strange fleet to appear.

Over the wireless, the unidentified voice spoke again: "If you do not stand down, we will open fire".

Number Three was not in the mood to negioate with new comers. Without a second thought, she gave the command "Open fire, destroy the strangers".

Alpha Quadrant:

"Incoming"

"Full power to shields and weapons".

Hundreds of missiles impact on the shields of the four starships. Not a single blast can penetrate the mighty shields. Admiral Plotkin now has the excuse he needs to destroy at least one of the new fleets.

"This is Admiral Plotkin. All vessels lock on and destroy the aggressors. Make sure none of them escape. Helm, give'em a full spread of phasers and torpedoes".

Battlestar Galactica, CIC:

"Launch all Vipers. Have the fleet ready to jump at any moment".

The admiral appears confident, but he is actually panicked. There are twenty five base ships out there. How the hell is he going to hold off twenty five long enough for the civilians to escape. Let alone the Galactica. This could be the end of humanity. Then, as though an answer to his prayers.

"Dradis incoming. Four new vessels, no transponder signals".

At that moment, Lt. Dualla heard the strangest thing. "Sir, you need to hear this".

Over the ships speakers, the following messages were heard: "This is the USS Goliath to all unidentified vessels. You are entering Federation space. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded".

"If you do not stand down, we will open fire".

Upon hearing these words, the Admirals heart sunk. "I guess that is it. We will hold off as long as possible. May the Gods help us all".

Just then, Lt. Gaeta said what was undoubtedly the best news anyone had heard in four years. "The Cylons are attacking the Goliath. If it survives, we might have an ally".

Battlefield:

"Galactica, Apollo, you are not going to believe what I'm looking at".

The dismayed Apollo had just seen the four strange ships take hundreds of hits, and emerge unscathed.

A few moments later, it was as if the gates of hell had been opened.

The starships advanced on the Cylon fleet. In the center, the Goliath commanded the battlefield. To the left, the Altantis cut through the Cylon flank, to the right, the Crazy Horse gashed through the Cylon right flank. Above the other vessels, the Excalibur provided fire support.

The Goliath acted as a wrecking ball, straight through the Cylon fleet. From the saucer section, phaser fire was erupting in all directions. From the middle of the craft, dozens of photon torpedoes dashed out at the Cylons. Everywhere the weapons hit, death and destruction followed.

The phasers of the four starships cut the Cylon Base Stars in two, while the photon torpedoes tore through them like paper. Within minutes of the first missile volley. All twenty five Base Stars had been destroyed.

The dismayed Raiders became overtaken with rage. Due to suspicions of a new biological weapon, the fleet had left without a resurrection ship. Now, thousands of Cylons had been killed, and would never be reborn. This would be their undoing.

As the thousands of Raiders descended on the four ships, they were met by a hailstorm of phaser fire. Despite launching a continuous volley of missiles, the raiders were unable to damage any of the ships. In desperation, the remaining Cylon Raiders began a collision course towards the Goliath.

Before any of the Raiders could reach the Goliath, the Atlantis and the Excalibur came up behind them and fired their phasers. The bright red lights sliced across the battlefield, ripping apart the Cylon fighters. The battle had only lasted six or seven minutes. In that time, the entire Cylon battle group was destroyed.

USS Goliath, Bridge:

"Damage Report"

"Sir, all decks report in. No Damage"

"Goliath to all vessels, damage report".

"Sir, this is the Excalibur. No damage to report".

"USS Crazy Horse here, no serious damage to report".

"USS Atlantis reporting, no serious damage".

The battle was won, Section 31 had once again beat back an alien invasion force. And they had done it without sustaining a single casualty. Now the question remained: who are these newcomers? Why did they attack? And what is the significance of the first fleet to appear?

In an effort to answer these questions, the Admiral turned to his Andorian Helmsman.

"Mr. Rav Tev, Scan that fleet for life signs. If there is so much as a rat with a cold on board, I want to know".

"Sir, scanners show approximately 35, 600... oh ...my..."

"Speak up Lieutenant."

"Sir, scanners indicate 35, 600... Humans".

Humans! This far out in unknown vessels. This was among the strangest thing the El-Aurian Admiral had ever seen. And he had served the Federation since its foundation.

"Hail them".

The astonished Andorian turned to his terminal. "Hailing frequencies open, Sir".

"Unidentified vessels, this is the USS Goliath. Recall your fighters and prepare to be border. You have three minutes to comply, then we will open fire. Goliath out".

Battlestar Galactica, CIC:

"Sir, we are receiving another message from the Goliath",

"On speakers lieutenant Dualla".

All ears were open as the following echoed throughout the CIC: "Unidentified vessels, this is the USS Goliath. Recall your fighters and prepare to be boarded. You have three minutes to comply, then we will open fire. Goliath out".

Adama pondered about his next move. He saw what these ships could do. Everyone in the CIC and in the Vipers knew that the fleet was no match for these new warships. Yet they did not want to appear defenceless. If they bluffed, they could be wiped out. But if they stood down, they could meet the same fate. William Adama was a brilliant tactician, but you first must know what you are up against.

"Dee, can we respond over the wireless?"

"It's worth a try sir".

Adama picked up a handset and prayed. "If this doesn't work, we better hope that we can jump faster than they can shoot".

Viper Squadron:

"Apollo to Vipers, did anyone else just see what I saw".

"If you mean twenty five BaseStars being torn into confetti, then yes, we all saw it".

"Who the Frak are these people".

"No idea Starbuck. Let's just hope they are friendly",

USS Goliath, Bridge:

"Sir, we are receiving a message from the battleship. Audio only".

"On speakers lieutenant"."This is Admiral Adama, of the Battlestar Galactica. We will defend ourselves if attacked. If you can hear this, please respond".

Admiral Plotkin turned to his Vulcan weapons officer. A Lieutenant Commander who had just transferred from into Sector 31 from Starfleet.

"Mr. Tuvok, give me a tactical analysis of their fleet".

Tuvok turned to his weapons consol and began a detailed scan of all vessels within this strange new fleet. Within two minutes, he had a full weapons schematic of each ship, and they were quite primitive.

"The majority of the vessels are either unarmed or lightly armed. The large vessel in the center appears to be a type of warship. It is armed with forty eight kinetic energy weapons and five missile launchers. The standard armament appears to be high explosive rounds. They also contain a small contingent of thermo-nuclear warheads".

"If they threw everything they had at us, how much damage could they inflect".

"None. Their weaponry is insufficient to penetrate our shields. My assessment is that they pose no threat to the Federation".

"Hail the warship".

"Hailing frequencies open sir".

"This is the USS Goliath. Admiral Adama, respond immediately".

"This is Adama, who am I speaking to?"

"Bridge to transporter room. Lock on to the man on the other side of this connection and perform a site to site transport to the bridge. Do it now!"

Battlestar Galacitca, CIC:

Adama was on the wireless, speaking to the strange vessel identified as the USS Goliath. Within seconds of establishing contact, the Admiral was engulfed in a bright white light. To the dismay of the entire command crew, the Admiral had vanished.

Half panic stricken, Tigh grabbed the handset that Adama had held less than a minute ago.

"Put me through to Apollo".

Viper Squadron:

"Galactica, Apollo. Come in".

"Apollo here, what is the situation?"

"Those bastards just kidnapped the Old Man. Get your ass in gear and attack that fracking ship".

At first, Lee could not comprehend what he had just heard. His father was in the CIC. How the hell could someone be kidnapped from the CIC? Nevertheless, he followed his orders.

"Copy that Galactica. All fighters, this is the CAG. Prepare to attack the Goliath".

USS Goliath, Bridge:

Adama was almost in shock. One minute he was in the CIC, the next, he was Gods know where. All that he knew was that he was in a brightly lit room, surrounded by people in gray uniforms. At first, the uniforms appeared to be made out of fabric. Upon closer inspection, he realized they were at type of armour that he had never seen before.

The man in the center chair stood up and approached Adama.

"I am Admiral Plotkin, commanding officer of Section 31. Who are you and what are you doing in Federation space?"

Before Adama could answer, a voice behind him shouted "Admiral!". To his astonishment, the person behind him had blue skin and a pair of antennas sticking out of the top of his head. Even more surprising was an apparent screen that looked out on his Viper squadrons. The Viper squadrons that were now advancing on the Goliath.

"Tactical analysis, Mr. Tuvok".

Adama now saw who Mr. Tuvok was. A brown skinned man with arched eyebrows and pointy ears. Where the hell was he?

"Sir, these fighters are equipped with light armaments. No more than kinetic energy weapons and missiles. They pose no threat to the Goliath or any other vessel in the Battlegroup".

"What are the defensive capabilities of the battleship?"

"They have no shielding technology or sufficient armour protection. They do have thin layer of metallic alloy, yet it is sub-standard. A single torpedo could destroy the vessel".

"Still, we should probably get those fighters off our ass. Bridge to shuttle bay, launch the Nimbus and have her take up position a few yards from their bow. That should distract the fighters".

The Nimbus was a standard Federation patrol vessel. These ships had been decommissioned from Starfleet after a malfunctioning Commander Data had appropriated one and fired on other Starships. But as the Admiral always says: "What Starfleet deems as unessential is crucial to Sector 31".

"You still haven't answered my question. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm Admiral Adama, and what I am doing here is escaping".

"Escaping? From who, or what are you escaping?"

Before either Admiral could formulate an answer, the young Andorian helmsman turned to his commanding officer.

"Sir, the Nimbus is away and enroute to the vessel identified as Galactica".

Nebula:

"Apollo, Galacitca. The Goliath is launching fighters".

"This is Starbuck. I only count one. Either they are short on man power or they know how Fraked our situation is".

"Hot-Dog, Apollo. The fighter is headed towards Galactica. Permission to intercept, over".

"Hot-Dog is right people. Galactica is our top priority. The Old Man would have wanted it that way. All fighters, break off attack and intercept that fighter",

Galactica, CIC:

"Dradis contact. One vessel, looks like a fighter. Bearing...Oh Gods!"

Tigh did not like the sound of that. As afraid as he was, he tried to sound as confident as possible. With Adama MIA, he was now in command.

"Speak up, Mr. Gaeta. Where is the fighter heading?"

"Straight for us sir. The Vipers are moving to intercept".

Upon hearing this news, Tighs hear sunk. He remained silent as to his true thoughts. But he whispered to himself "May the Gods protect you Bill. Cause there is no help coming from us".

USS Goliath, Bridge:

Adama turned around to see the small vessel dash towards the Galactica.

"Sir, the fighters are moving to intercept the Nimbus".

Sure enough, the Viper squadrons were turning away from the Goliath and headed back towards Galactica. Adama hoped this was only a diversionary tactic. After what he had seen and heard, he knew the fleet was no match for the Goliath and her wingmates. The Colonials were at the mercy of the Federation. And they knew it.

"Inform the Nimbus that they are not to fire unless their shields are breached".

"Yes sir".

"Now that we are not expecting any guests, I suggest you answer my questions".

Adama did not enjoy being ordered around. He was the highest ranking officer in the Colonial fleet. But he was also up against a far superior foe. One that was even superior to the Cylons. He reasoned that it was in humanities best interest to co-operate.

"Four years ago, our homeworlds were completely wiped out by the Cylons. They are the same race that just attacked your ships. We have spent the past four years on the run, trying to keep one step ahead of our pursuers".

"I'm beginning to understand. You're not invaders. You are refugees, without a homeworld. We have a lot in common Admiral".

"Goliath, this is Nimbus, please come in. We are under attack".

"On screen".

The view screen activates to reveal the patrol vessel surrounded by small fighters. A barrage of canon and missile fire has completely engulfed the small ship. The Vipers are darting across the view screen in all directions.

"Nimbus, this is Goliath. Status Report".

USS Nimbus, Cockpit:

"Sir, this is lieutenant Sheldon. We are completely surrounded. Request permission to return fire. Over".

Over the speakers, the Admiral can be heard.

"Have you taken any damage, over?"

"Negative, the shields are holding."

Without a moment's hesitation, the Admiral responds: "Hold your fire. Keep cool Mr. Sheldon, this will be over soon".

Viper Squadron:

Starbuck was getting annoyed with these newcomers. First they kidnap the old man, then they don't even let the colonials fight back. This small ship was becoming a huge pain in the ass.

"All fighters, this is Starbuck. It's no good. We can't hit the mother fracker. Our weapons are useless".

Apollo hated to admit defeat, but Starbuck was right. The Vipers were just wasting their ammo firing at this ship, whatever it was.

"Apollo, Vipers, Starbuck's right. Call of the attack, we're just wasting our time here".

Galactica, CIC:

Tigh was furious. Call of the fracking attack, was Apollo crazy. Before he could chastise his CAG, the Goliath began transmitting.

"Galacitca, this is Goliath. It seems we've had a misunderstanding. We have your Admiral, unharmed. If you want him back, I suggest you recall your fighters. Over".

The CIC became quiet, like a tomb. Was the Goliath really going to return the Admiral? Or was this just a trick to lure off the Vipers? Tigh had to make a decision, and with the fate of the fleet hanging in the balance, it was a decision he did not want to make.

"Dee, call of the Vipers. Contact the Goliath, inform them we will recall our squadrons only after the Admiral has been returned unharmed".

"Yes sir".

Lieutenant Dualla began to transmit the Colonel's demands to the Goliath. She prayed that this was the right decision. Tigh had been in command before and he royally fracked up everything. If he fracked up this time, they could all die.

To everyone's dismay the demand was answered by Admiral Adama himself, standing behind Lieutenant Dualla.

"Call of the Vipers Saul, these people pose no threat to the Fleet".

Behind Adama, were three people in metallic grey uniforms. Two of them held some sort of rifle in their hands. The one in the center was Admiral Plotkin. The men on either side of him were his security guards.

"I am Admiral Plotkin, from the USS Goliath. It seems we have much to discuss".

Cylon Base City 1:

The control room was deathly silent. Everyone just stood still, completely in shock from the previous events. Finally, one of the Centurions broke the silence.

"Brilliant plan, Number Three".

No one seemed to hear the snide remark. Everyone was encompassed in their own reflections of the events. Number Six kept repeating to herself "Oh my God. Oh my God".

Finally, after five minutes, Number Eight (a.k.a. Sharon Valerie) spoke out.

"What the hell just happened".

To this, Brother Cavel replied: "The Strangers just destroyed our fleet".

"I know that. What I don't know is how. How did they destroy us so quickly? How did they survive that missile barrage?"

"Obviously, these strangers are a vastly superior race. Perhaps it is time to abandon our pursuit of the Colonials. If they are granted safe haven from these strangers, then we are sunk".

But Number Three had other plans. Ever since her deboxing, she had become more sinister. More reckless, and more aggressive. She would not have her victory snatched away by a group of meddling foreigners.

"What if we approached these people for help?"

The others were aghast. They had just attacked these people and now they were going to ask for help. Was Three completely out of her mind?

"You are insane", mentioned one of the Centurions. "No one will help us after we shoot at them. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"But, if we were to send an envoy. Convince them that it is in their best interest to expel the Colonials. Then we could finish the fleet without interference".

"And they will shoot down our envoy before we can dock with them".

"Besides", exclaimed a now furious Simon, "How do we reach out to a race we know nothing about? Your plan could worsen the situation. Perhaps it was a mistake to unbox you".

"You leave that to me. Just give me a Heavy Raider and I will convince their commander to expel the colonials".

After a few moments, one of the Sixes spoke out. "We will not let you go alone Number Three. Since it was Brother Cavels idea to unbox you in the first place, he will accompany you. Along with a security contingent of Centurions".

"I would also like to come along", mentioned Number Eight (formerly known as Boomer). "I know how Humans behave more than anyone else in this complex. If anyone can convince these newcomers, I can".

"Agreed. We leave within the hour".

As the meeting was adjourned, Leoben took one of the Centurions aside.

"Stay for a moment, we have much to discuss".

The Cylon boarding party took its leave, minus the Centurion. Those who would not join the away mission, remained standing around their control consol.

"If Three's plan should fail, we should have an escape clause ready".

One of the other Cavel's looked up from his control terminal. "What are you suggesting".

"We should mobilize our entire fleet into strike forces. We rely on this centurion to gather data on the location of the planets of the Federation, and then we nuke them. Just because their ships are indestructible, does not mean their planets are".

"If your plan fails, we could face total annihilation".

But Leoben was confident his plan would work. "We will co-ordinate the attack from here. The jump off point should be set for forty-eight hours. That should give us enough time to mobilize"

Galactica, Adama's quarters:

Roslin, Adama, Tigh, Admiral Plotkin and his guards are seated around Adama's desk.

"All right, let's cut the crap. You just parked 35 000 refugees on our doorstep. I want to know where you are going, and what can you tell me about those ships that attacked my fleet".

Roslin was taken aback by this outright attitude of the Admiral. He didn't waste time, did he? Considering the weapons capabilities of his ships, it was best to cooperate.

"Ok. The Cylons are a race of machines created by the Twelve Colonies of Kobol over fifty years ago. They were meant to serve as a labour force, but then they rebelled. A war broke out, and we have been fighting them ever since".

"A fifty year war. Believe me Madam President, I can relate".

This Admiral Plotkin was a strange character. He kept mentioning how much he and the Colonials had in common, yet he never went into the details. He never even mentioned his race or origins. Was he human, or was he an alien species that looked human. Before she could make an arrangement with this man, she needed to know more about him and the Federation he serves.

"Pardon me for asking this Admiral, but are you human".

"I'm an El-Aurian. We look human, but the similarities end there".

This peaked Adama's interest.

"What differences are you referring to Admiral".

"How old do you think I am Admiral Adama?"

"I fail to see the relevance of this".

"I'm turning one thousand next week".

Apollo had just walked in, and caught the last part of the discussion.

"A thousand? How is that possible? You're Human, aren't you".

"No. I'm an El-Aurian, from the planet El-Auria. My people have an extremely long lifespan. At least we did, until the Borg came. Now there are only a dozen of us left".

Apollo was completely puzzled by this. He looked so human. But if there are only a dozen of them...

"Then who is in those ships".

"The Federation is composed of around one hundred and fifty member worlds. Those ships out there are crewed by Andorians, Trills, Vulcans, Beta Zoids, Bajorans, and various other people. Including a few volunteers from non-member worlds, like my Ferengi engineers or my Klingon security personnel. Those are a gift from their respective governments. We helped pull their rears out of the fire so many times, they owe us".

Roslin was amazed. A fleet made of hundreds of different people, acting as one for the good of all within their territory. This Federation had access to resources and manpower that she had never dreamed were possible. They could be an invaluable ally against the Cylons. If she could convince them to help. But there was a more pressing matter at hand.

"Admiral, could one of these planets grant us safe haven?"

"I doubt it Madam President. Most of our member planets are still recovering from the Dominion Wars".

"The Dominion? Who are they?"

"They are the most ruthless sons of bitches in the Galaxy. It took almost six years to beat them out of the Alpha Quadrant and send them flying back to the Delta Quadrant".

Everyone except for the Section 31 officers looks completely lost.

"Allow me to explain. I have served the Federation throughout the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th centuries. And throughout all that time, the Federation has never come as close to total collapse as it did when the Dominion invaded. They overran many of our positions, and it was only when the Klingon and Romulan empires came to our aid that we stood a chance. Even then, we needed help from the Cardissians to defeat the Dominion and the Breen. Hell, the Breen even burned my HQ to the ground. I hope we never have to fight them again. But the entire quadrant is always on alert, just in case. How we will beat them a second time, I don't know. I just know that failure is never an option, billions of lives hang in the balance".

The Admiral began to reflect on conflicts past. The Xindi Wars, the Romulan Wars, the Kligon Wars, all were terrible. But none could compare to the Dominion Wars, with casualties ranging in the hundreds of millions.

"But listen to me go on. You should not be concerned with our troubles. You have your own war to worry about".

Adama saw this as an opportunity.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that Admiral. I was hoping we could count on your assistance in dealing with the Cylons".

"Well, I could see if Starfleet can issue some humanitarian aid. But I can't promise anything. Granted, they did attack us in force. This qualifies as an invasion, and it is within Section 31 jurisdiction to locate and wipe out hostile staging areas and bases. If you could provide me with their locations, that is".

"That's the second time you've mentioned that. Section 31. What is that?"

"We are the backbone of Federation counter intelligence, espionage, and defence. Equipped with the latest technologies and most powerful warships, we handle the missions that are too tough for Starfleet. Destroying enemy invasion fleets before they can launch, assassinating key enemy personnel and politicians, sabotage, and a variety of other duties".

This peaked Lee's curiosity. Section 31 seemed like an exciting place to be.

"How long have you served with Section 31".

"Almost three hundred years. We are an all volunteer unit, that has carte blanche in all circumstances. It is the best place to be when serving the Federation".

Humanitarian aid. It would be welcome to the fleet, but they needed more. They needed a home. Roslin had been debating about this, but she figured it was now or never.

"Pardon me Admiral, but it seems we must be on our way. Could you or your men point us the way to Earth?"

Apparently, the mention of the word Earth had struck a nerve. All three officers leaped to their feet and pointed their sidearms at the president. Apollo and his father pointed their sidearms at the Federation officers. It was as if a firefight was about to erupt in the Admirals quarters.

"How do you know that name?"

Roslin was shocked. She never meant to incite a conflict.

"I'm sorry. Have I said something wrong?"

"Earth is the home of the Federation Council, the President of the Federation, and Starfleet Command. How do you know about the nerve center of the Federation?"

The Admiral asked a simple question. He was expecting a simple answer. What he got instead was completely puzzling. Roslin broke down and wept.

"Praise the Gods. Here is our salvation. Thank you Admiral. Thank You".

Plotkin turned to Adama.

"Is you alright upstairs. I think your President is a little off".

Adama became furious. The security guards would swear they saw flames shoot out of his nostrils. Off course, this was on exaggeration. But when you have an enraged man pointing a pistol at you...

"I suggest you apologize to the President, Admiral Plotkin".

"What is with...oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to offend your lover".

Adama actually blushed. Lee had never seen his father this embarrassed. He had also never been so confused. The President and the Admiral? When the Frack did that happen?

"I'm afraid you're mistaken Admiral. The president and I are only friends".

"Admiral Adama, I can see it all over your face. If you and the president haven't spent the night together at least once, then you can call me Shirley!"

At this point, a very embarrassed Roslin spoke up.

"Only once Admiral, and it was many months ago".

"Still Madam President, a soldier never insults another's girl. I apologize for calling you a nut".

"Thank you. Now could you put down your ray gun".

"First of all, it's a phaser. Second, you haven't told me what you know about Earth".

Roslin did not want to be shot, so she decided to inform the Admiral about Earth. Or at least the colonial version of what Earth is. When she was finished, the Admiral and his guards lowered their phasers.

"Well, I was wrong, you are all nuts".

The general looks of embarrassment had subsided, and were replaced by looks of anger. This time it was Tigh who spoke out in defence of the Colonials.

"Excuse me, but I don't recall any of us insulting your beliefs. Whatever they are in that destroyed alien world of yours".

"Humans have lived on earth for millions of years. The earliest known human was around roughly two million years ago. Are you telling me that humans had interstellar travel millions of years before any of the most advanced civilizations in history? Come on. My people were exploring the Galaxy, when the Earthlings were still using horse drawn carriages".

"Well then" interrupted Roslin, "How else do you explain our situation?"

"I can't. I can tell you that I spent the twentieth century on earth. I flew prop planes for the British during the Second World War. I see you are confused, you have much to learn about the Alpha Quadrant and Earth. This much i can tell you, you have nothing in common with the humans on Earth. Your paths are and always have been different".

Roslin, Adama, Tigh, and Lee could all feel the room spinning around them. Had everything they had ever learned been a lie? Were the scriptures all false? Would they ever find a home? Regardless, Roslin had to make a plea for her people.

"Could you send a convoy to take us to Earth".

"No I can not".

"Why?"

"Order 66. After the Breen burned down our HQ, all travel to Earth has been restricted to members of the Federation only. People at command do not like hiding under their desk as Earth gets bombed".

"If we were to try on our own".

"Then you would be destroyed by the Earth Defence Force".

So much for their new home.

"If you were to apply for membership, however, you might be allowed in. Of course, that will be up to the council".

Just then, a voice began to speak.

"Red Alert. Red Alert. Admiral Plotkin, please respond".

The Admiral touched a gold pin on his chest.

"This is the Admiral, what is the situation?"

"Sir, this is the Nimbus. We have spotted a vessel resembling one of those who attacked us. It is small, probably a fighter".

"I'm on my way, Admiral out".

The Admiral touched his pin a second time, and then a third.

"Admiral Plotkin to Goliath. Site to site transport to the bridge".

Both Roslin and Adama saw this as an opportunity to express the urgency of the Cylon threat. Without a second thought, they brought up the possibility of joining the Admiral on the bridge of his ship.

"All right, just don't get in my way. Goliath, seven to beam up, Energize".

USS Goliath, Bridge:

Within seconds the three Federation officers, Adama, Roslin, Tigh, and Lee were standing on the bridge of the Goliath.

"What the Hell?" Shouted an irritated Saul Tigh. "When did I agree to come along for this fieldtrip?"

"Well", interputed Lee, "It's a lot cleaner than a battle star. And a lot, WHAT THE FRAK?"

Plotkin spun around to glimpse an open mouthed Lee Adama staring at his Vulcan security chief and Bajoran first officer.

"Stop staring before I gouge out your eyes".

"Roe, be nice. These are guests".

"As you wish sir".

He then turned to Lee.

"Who are you again?"

Still in shock from seeing a pointy eared man and a woman with a crinkled nose, Lee turned to face the Admiral only to catch a glimpse of a blue helmsman with antennae sticking out of his head.

"Don't look at mister Rav Tev. I asked you who you were".

Regaining some of his composure, Lee answered: "Major Lee Adama. Commander Air Group, Battlestar Galactica".

"Well then, Major Adama, CAG BattleStar Galactica. This is my first officer, a Bajoran named Roe Larren".

"Greetings Major".

"My chief of security and tactical officer, a Vulcan named Tuvok".

"Major".

"And the man you are still gawking at is Lieutenant Rav Tev. He's Andorian, so stop staring".

Lee hadn't even realized that he was staring again. Now he was embarrassed. This was a whole new galaxy, and he felt like a fish out of water.

Turning to face Tuvok, the Admiral barked out "Bogey on screen".

The large screen at the front of the bridge flashed on to reveal a Cylon Heavy Raider, being tailed by the Nimbus.

"That is no fighter", exclaimed the Admiral. "It is too bulky, without the appropriate firepower or manoeuvrability".

"It's a Cylon Heavy Raider", responded Lee. "And how did you know it wasn't a fighter?"

"I was a fighter pilot during the twentieth century. I know the characteristics of a decent fighter and that hunk of junk is not even close".

After a moment of recollection, the Admiral decided that this thing needed to be disabled and examined. "Goliath to Nimbus".

"Go ahead Goliath".

"Are the energy dampening weapons ready?"

"Affirmative sir".

"Disable that ship, then use your tractor beam to pull it in. I want to examine it".

"Yes sir".

Nebula, Federation Border:

The Nimbus approaches the Cylon Heavy Raider from behind. The bow of the Nimbus begins a glow a bluish hue, then an electric burst shoots out of the bow and hits the stern of the Raider.

Cylon Heavy Raider:

Without warning, an electric discharge shoots through all systems in the Raider. Within seconds of the discharge all key systems, including the Centurions, are disabled. The Humanoid Cylons are now floating around, with the disabled Centurions bouncing off the hull. Then they hear a weird rumbling and the Raider jolts back in forth.

"Well, it seems that they are bringing us in. Now what Number Three?"

"We wait and see what they do. And without our Centurions, we are defenceless. Do not insult them, and do not make any sudden moves".

Unknown to the crew of the Heavy Raider, the deactivation of the Centurions has left the entire Cylon fleet defenceless. Leoben's gambit has inadvertently sealed the fate of the Cylon battle fleet.

USS Goliath, shuttle bay:

The Nimbus has arrived, pulling the Heavy Raider in tow. After easing the Raider into the shuttle bay with its tractor beam, the Nimbus departs and returns to its scouting position and the edge of Federation Space. A team of engineers is poised near the Cylon craft, ready to slice it open. The head technician is a Ferengi who specializes in strange technologies.

"We are ready to crack open the egg and see what is inside, sir".

The colonials stand in awe of the orange skinned alien with big ears. Admiral Plotkin insists on viewing the contents of this craft personally. Commander Roe is on the Bridge. She had risen through the ranks of Section 31 ever since the Marquis were crushed by the Dominion. Now she was second in command of the most powerful organization in the Federation. Amazing what can happen in a few years.

"Crack the egg, Lieutenant Commander Rund".

The Ferengi fired up a type of plasma gun that was only present in Section 31. Starfleet was still using laser saws to pry into unopened cargo and vessels. Seeing as how 31 opened more dangerous cargo than Starfleet (mainly because 31 would get to it first), they modified a plasma rifle to act as a cutting instrument. The engineers sliced open the Heavy Raider from a safe distance, as Federation security personnel aimed their phaser rifles at the opening.

"Come out with your hands up, or we will shoot".

Out of the vessel, came two tall, beautiful women and an old man.

A tall blond approached the awaiting officers.

"Excuse me, gentleman. But could you take me to your leader?"

"That, my lady, is the oldest and worst joke in history".

Number Three was dismayed. A man in a grey suit who was at least a foot shorter than her was now confronting her. Who is was this strange little man, and who dare he speak up to her?

"I will only speak to your commander".

"My Lady, I am Admiral Plotkin. There is no one above me. I am the Commanding Officer of Section 31 and you are now my prisoner".

Having said this, the Admiral snapped his fingers and his troops advanced. The shocked Cylons observed that these soldiers were not, as previously thought, human. Some of them had pointed ears. Others had spots leading down their necks. And one of them had a ridged forehead.

"Ensign Rojenko".

"Sir" answered the soldier with the ridged forehead.

"Take a team inside the Raider, and salvage anything of use. Robots, machines, anything".

"Yes sir".

"Wait a minute", protested the tall blond. "We came here with peaceful intentions. We only wish.."

"To spew as much bullshit as you can".

"I like him" whispered Roslin to Adama, who chuckled quietly.

"You attacked my fleet, and that makes you an enemy combatant. Don't bother with all of the conventions and regulations regarding prisoners. None of them apply to Section 31. Don't bother launching a complaint either. No government has ever officially acknowledged the existence of Section 31 or any of its officers. So shut up and get into your holding cell, before I throw you into a torpedo tube and shoot you at the nearest star".

Dumbstruck, the three Cylons were lead out of the shuttle bay, and into the brig. Once the Cylons had been removed, Ensign Alexander Rajenko emerged from the Heavy Raider. Behind were two Vulcans, each carrying a disabled Centurion.

"Sir".

"Excellent. Have our engineers disassemble them and access their memory banks. I want to know everything about them, their experiences, and their plans. Report to me once we've cracked their memories".

"Yes sir".

Two Hours Later, USS Goliath, Admiral Plotkin's Ready Room:

"Mr. Rund, if I've said it once I've said a thousand times. You are a miracle worker".

"Well, I try sir".

The Admiral was seated, reading a data pad with the Cylon battle strategies on it. The Colonial representatives (Roslin, Kara, and Bill Adama) had just be escorted to the Admiral Ready Room.

"Ah, my guests. It seems your Cylon friends are complete and utter morons".

This statement caught all three colonials off guard. Lee was the first to open his mouth.

"What are you talking about?"

"The data we collected from those downed soldiers, indicates they are organizing their fleet into eight main battle groups. It seems they intend to strike at our planets before the fleet can mobilize. How they hope to hit one hundred and fifty planets with eight battle groups before our fleet, and the fleets of our allies can mobilize I will never know".

Adama and Roslin began to smile. This was it. This was what they had been waiting for. Finally, an ally that can defeat the Cylons. And they didn't have to do anything to convince them. "So what do you intend to do about this, Admiral?"

"Well, it seems they will be ready to attack in forty eight hours. We will mobilize our fleet, and simultaneously hit all eight staging areas and their base compound. Fortunately, their plan relied on this unit to gather intel for them. Without it, they have no idea where we are, what our deployments are, or what our defence capabilities are. They are in the dark. And those other Cylons now have Romulan mind probes attached to their brains. We will know everything about their ships, and they will know nothing about ours".

Just at that moment, a spotted woman entered the room.

"Admiral, all hailing frequencies are open".

"Excellent. Contact our entire fleet, I want them to assemble here ASAP. Understood?"

"Yes sir".

"We will tighten the noose around our Cylon friends, and then seal their fate".

Roslin was overjoyed. Kara, on the other hand, was a bit more concerned. The Cylon fleet was going to meet Section 31 in all out battle and she would not be there to witness it. She already knew the Colonials no longer trusted her. Perhaps these Federation people would give her one last shot at glory and vengeance.

"Pardon me, sir".

"Yes you can come along".

Kara was in shock. How did he know what she wanted to say? Was he psychic or something? Admiral Plotkin was very good at reading people, especially confusion.

"No, I am not telepathic. My science officer is thought. I am just very good at reading people. One look at you and I see a hound ready to chase the fox".

"What, sir?"

"Sorry, old earth analogy. Anyway, the USS Galaxy just lost its Scout Ship pilot. Poor bloke had a computer terminal blow up in his face. It's yours if you want the job".

A scout ship. Not quite a Viper, but Kara could fly any crate in the galaxy.

"Thank you sir".

Commander Roe entered with some exciting news.

"Sir, the Section fleet is assembled. We are ready for your orders".

"Excellent, have the commanders of each ship meet me in the conference room".

The Section fleet was composed of the most powerful warships in the Federation. These standard vessels had been modified with enhanced phasers and plasma torpedoes, they are twice as powerfull as their Starfleet counter parts.

"Gentlemen, welcome aboard".

The Following Day, Battlefields across the Galaxy:

The Cylons were facing disasters defeat. The first fleet was being shredded by plasma torpedoes. The USS Griffin and USS Graff Spee (both are modified Excelsior Class warships) are smashing through the flanks of the dozens of Cylon Base Stars. Through the center of the fleet, the USS Anderson (a Galaxy Class starship) and the USS Hood (an Ambassador Class starship) are slicing up the Base Stars with their enhanced phasers. And from the rear of the fleet, the USS Nimitz and USS Cole (Miranda Class starships) are unleashing a volley of plasma torpedoes that incinerate anything they touch. The first Cylon fleet is engulfed in a cauldron of death and destruction, one from which there is no escape.

The second Cylon fleet is not faring much better. The USS Galaxy (a Galaxy Class warship) has separated its saucer section from its battle section, attacking the Cylons from two different directions. The USS Horizon and USS Pegasus (both are Sovereign Class vessels) are demolishing the ranks of the Base Stars. Their massive phaser banks and torpedo volleys are unleasing a hell storm on the unsuspecting mechanical menace. With the USS Prometheus (whose classification has yet to be named) closing off the rear of the battlefield, and the USS Hermes (a Yeager Class vessel) and USS Sutherland (a Nebula Class ship) attacking the right flank, it is only a matter of time until victory is achieved.

The Third and Fourth Cylon fleets had even less luck than the first two. Fed false information, the two fleets jumped directly into two nebulas. Each nebula was essential a ticking time bomb, filled with Anti-matter mines and explosive gas. With a single phaser burst from a pair of Nebula Class warships, the nebulas erupt into a massive fireball. Within seconds, both Cylon fleets are engulfed in flames. Thousands of Cylons have been killed by exploding gas and mines, without firing a single shot.

The fifth Cylon fleet is met by three Galaxy Class starships and two Excelsior Class starships. The massive vehicles unleashing a devasting barrage of plasma torpedoes and phaser fire. Serving in all directions, the five ships circle the dozens of Cylon warships, picking them off like flies. Advancing through the ranks of the Cylons, the vessels leave behind them a trail of burning wreckage.

The sixth Cylon fleet was given a personal touch from Admiral Plotkin. The Atlantis, the Crazy Horse, the Excalibur, the Goliath and her sister ship the Odyssey were attacking in a zig-zag pattern. The Goliath and the Odyssey had separated their saucer sections from their battle sections, allowing them to maximize their offensive capabilities. With each vessels battle section providing covering fire for their saucer sections, the mighty Galaxy and Nebula class starships darted between their Cylon nemesis. The battlefield was immersed in phaser and plasma torpedo fire, as Cylon Baseships exploded in every direction. It was only matter of time before victory would be secured.

The Seventh Fleet was hit by a group of seven Defiant class starships. They headed straight towards the rows of waiting Cylons, ripping them apart with their powerful phase canons. As the rapid firing weapons shredded through the Basestars, the Cylons returned fire with everything they had. All for naught, as Federation fighters screened the capital ships from missile barrages. Though small, the Defiant class packs a mean punch. Flying and firing in all directions, they tore through the ranks of the Cylons.

The eight fleet was the most fortunate. Rather than await for word from their superiors, the Centurions decided they were through with following the humanoids to their deaths. When the group of four Galaxy Class and three Miranda class vessels approached, the Cylons bugged out. Retreating to the Cylon base city, they braced themselves for the final push.

USS Goliath, Bridge:

"Sir, all fleets reporting in".

"Status, Mr. Tuvok".

"The attack is a complete success. Seven Cylon fleets destroyed, the eight has pulled back. We are ready to mount the final assault on the Cylon base".

"Open a channel to all battle groups".

"Hailing frequencies open".

"All Section vessels. Prepare to advance on my mark. Engage".

Cylon Base City 1:

Number Five had taken over as tactical commander of the eight fleets. Just as they were making final preparations, all contact with the fleets was lost. Number five was starting to worry. What had happened to their invasion force?

"Report, what is happening out there?"

Leoben was more calm than the other Cylons in the control room. If he had known how poorly the battle was progressing, he would not have been at ease.

"Do not worry Number Five. I am sure it is just a natural phenomenon. We will re-establish contact soon enough".

All Cylons were moving frantically through the control room, doing everything possible to contact their battle groups. Finally, they reached the eight fleet. It was a lot closer than they had expected.

"The eight fleet is approaching the city".

Number Five was furious.

"What the hell are they doing here? Contact their command center, now"

They did not have a chance. One of the Centurions shouted: "Contact, massive enemy fleet".

All eight Federation battle groups had merged into one massive fleet. The Cylons were outgunned, and they knew it. Still, Number Five refused to surrender.

"Launch all fighters. We shall fight them to the death".

Just as these orders were being sounded, the Cylons heard a distinctive click. It was the sound of Centurions arming their machine guns. They stared in horror as their own troops began to advance on them.

"What are you doing?"

One of the centurions spoke out.

"We tired of dying in futile engagements. We are tired of being used as cannon fodder. And, we are tired of you. Step aside".

Seeing as how they could not do anything if they were dead, the humanoid Cylons did as they were told.

USS Goliath, Bridge:

"Sir, we are receiving a message from the Cylon base".

"On speakers".

The following words rang out through the bridge like a bell.

"This is Centurion 24601. Base City 1 is now under new management. The Cylons officially surrender. I repeat, we surrender".

Hours later, an Oberth class starship arrived, carrying a delegation from the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. A peace treaty was signed between the Federation, the Twelve Colonies, and the Cylons. As cries of victory rang out throughout the fleet, the Colonials knew that one chapter of their lives had ended. A new chapter was just beginning.

The End?


	2. Chapter 2

Where do we go from here?

Cylon Base City 1:

The war with the Cylons was now over. Admiral Plotkin was now walking through the base with Centurion 24601, who had taken control after the war.

"Now that the peace treaty is all hammered out, there is one matter left to discuss. Our Cylon prisoners".

"Odd, I thought those prisoners belonged to the Colonials".

"24601, I have three Cylons cooling their heels in my brig. What should I do with them?"

"Whatever the frack you want to do with them".

"Frack. The Colonials keep using that word. What does it mean?"

"Frack? Well, it means...uh..it means".

"Say no more, I can tell this is a uncomfortable subject".

"You are quite sensitive Admiral. Most humans would not accept a machine feeling uncomfortable".

"El-Aurian".

The Centurion stopped dead in its tracks. It looked puzzled. At least the Admiral thought that it looked puzzled. It was hard to tell when you don't have a face."I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not human. I'm El-Aurian. We only look human".

"Sorry. Did not mean to offend you".

"No sweat. I have a holographic doctor. I'm used to dealing with sentient machines. It seems your fellow Cylons are not as at ease".

These Cylons were a strange race. One species was more practical, more focused. The other was more emotional, more irrational, and more fanatical. It had been the fanatical breed that had attacked the Federation. The Admiral did not like the humanoid Cylons. He preferred the mechanical kind.

"So you don't want them back?"

"They started this war. It nearly lead to our extinction. You can keep them"

Well, that settles that. He was stuck with three exiled Cylons and no place to put them.

"Plotkin to Goliath, one to beam up".

Federation Space:

To celebrate their victory over the Cylons, Admiral Plotkin had invited the Adamas to a night in the holodeck. Due to the secrecy of their work, Section 31 personnel were not permitted to shore leave privileges. But they could simulate it in the holodecks.

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Lee asked his father.

"The Admiral said something about a victory party".

The Adamas were escorted to the holodeck, where they were greeted by Admiral Plotkin in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

"Ah. Admiral, Major, it is good to see you again. Follow me please".

The door opened and the two Colonials almost fainted. On this starship, was an entire tropical get away. This room had pools, wide open spaces, patches of green grass, and lots of scantly clad, beautiful women.

"What is this?"

"This is the holodeck. It's where we go to relax after a long day of covert operations. Here".

The Admiral handed Lee a small, wooden doll.

"Give this to her".

The Admiral motioned towards a beautiful, young brunette. Lee did as he was told, and the young women smiled.

"You seek jamaharon".

"I am looking for who now?"

Admiral Plotkin could not help but laugh. The poor Colonial officer was helplessly confused in this matter.

"Allow me to translate. She says she wants to... frack...you".

"What?"

"I could find someone else if you like".

"Uh, no thank you. Let's make, jamhabonron".

"It's jamaharon. She's from Risa. The "pleasure planet". They take this very seriously there".

"A whole planet of...Can we go there as soon as possible".

"No. Now enjoy yourself. That's an order major".

While Lee Adama was sneaking off to make jamaharon with a beautiful hologram, Bill Adama looked absolutely appalled.

"I take it, you don't approve Admiral".

"I am not one to insult someone's culture".

"In that case, I have a present for you. Computer, activate program Roslin 1".

Open hearing this command, the computer then made a loud beeping sound and a holographic representation of Laura Roslin appeared...completely naked.

"Hello, Bill" said the faux Roslin in her sexiest, most seductive voice possible. "Wanna have some fun before we head out".

She wrapped her hands around his neck and motioned to kiss him. He pulled away and wrapped his hands around the Admiral's neck.

"You sick mother fracker. What have you done to her?"

Unable to explain because someone was chocking him, Admiral Plotkin responded by kneeing William Adama in the groin. Once he had doubled over, Admiral Plotkin was free to say "Delete Roslin 1".

No sooner had he said it, that the image of Laura Roslin disappeared. This left Adama very embarrassed, and confused.

"What the hell?"

"It wasn't the real Roslin. It was a hologram. An artificial representation of a real person or object".

"So it was a machine".

"In a way. I guess I should have mentioned that first. Sorry. I could bring it back if you wish".

"NO". Adama did want to spend the night with Laura. The real Laura, not this mechanical copy. "But I could use a drink".

"Fine. We'll go to Ten-Forward. Hey Lee! When you are finished, just say end program o.k."

From the distance, Lee could be heard in response "Yeah, no problem".

"Shouldn't you tell him he is fracking a machine?"

"Eh. Why spoil his good time".

Ten-Forward:

"Two scotch on the rocks, my good man".

"Right away sir".

As the two Admirals wait for their drinks, Commander Roe enters and asks to speak with her commanding officer.

"Sir, the Odyssey reports that her fleet is ready to relieve us. We move off the line at 16:30 hours".

"Excellent. Now we can undergo some much needed repairs and R&R. We have been out of space-dock for over a year now".

"Sir, there is one other matter".

Roe was not one to be hesitant. When she had something to say, she just said it. That is one of the reasons Plotkin liked her. He needed a number 2 who was not afraid to speak her mind.

"Just spit it out Roe".

"Ensign Thrace is here sir. She would like to speak with you".

At the mention of the name Thrace, Adama started to pay attention. Normally, he would not interfere with another man's ship. But this was Kara, and he wanted to make sure she was ok.

"Send her in".

No sooner had he said this, did Starbuck storm into the bar.

"Admiral. When I transferred to your fleet, I intended to see action. I did not wish to sit on my ass as you wiped out the Cylon fleet".

"Ensign, the fighters of the Federation take on a secondary role only. It is the capital ships that do most of the work in this galaxy. I suggest you enrol at the academy if you wish to fly one of our starships".

Enrol at the academy! Was he serious? She was the Galactica's CAG, and now she is a lowly ensign. How could this get any more humiliating?

"Or, you could transfer back to your own fleet. I will not hold it against you".

Kara looked at Admiral Adama, then back at Admiral Plotkin.

"No sir"."What is the deal with you two?"

Before Adama could answer, Starbuck burst out "He thinks I'm a toaster".

"Could someone explain to me what appliances have to do with this?"

"No, not, hahaha".

Kara could not help but laugh at this. This guy had just kicked Cylon ass halfway across the galaxy and he didn't know what toaster meant.

"Sir, toaster is what we call the Cylons".

"Your scotches sirs".

As the admirals reached for their drinks, Roslin walked into Ten-Forward and sat in Adama's lap.

"Hello handsome", Laura was adopting the sexiest voice she could. "You come here often".

If he hadn't already been briefed on the holograms, Adama would have a face as red as a tomato.

"Admiral, I appreciate your sentiment. But I really don't need this".

Starbuck looked completely baffled, but Plotkin had an idea what was going on. Unlike poor Bill Adama, who had not realized that it was the real Laura Roslin sitting in his lap.

"I wish I could take the credit, Admiral. But holograms do not work in Ten-Forward. This woman is the real deal"."What?"

Adama went white as a sheet, and Roslin burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha. Got ya Bill".

Admiral Plotkin turned to his first officer.

"Gee, I wonder who told her about the holodeck program".

Roe just smiled and walked away. "I have got to stop telling that woman things".

Roslin sat in the seat next to Adama, but she still had a huge smile on her face.

"So, when do I meet your new playmate".

"The hologram was my idea, Madam President. Admiral Adama had nothing to do with it".

"Well, I still think it was sweet the way you tried to strangle him because you thought he had done something to me".

Adama had never been more embarrassed.

"Sweet?"

"Just enjoy your scotch Admiral. Would you like one Madam President?"

"No thank you, but there is another matter I would like to discuss with you Admiral".

Adama took a sip of his scotch, and looked disgusted.

"What is this?"

"It's Synthehol."

"Syntha what?"

"Synthehol. Synthetic alcohol, we replicate it in mass quantities. It takes less room than actual alcohol, and less time to make".

"It also tastes like motor oil".

"How do you know what motor oil tastes like?"

Roslin was starting to get annoyed. She had some serious issues to discuss, and they were discussing the merits of fake alcohol. She did not have time for this.

"Gentlemen, all kidding aside. We need to start looking into permanent settlement".

"Not this again, Madam President".

"Admiral Plotkin, it is crucial that our people be given a stable home".

"Madam President, there isn't a system in the quadrant that can accommodate 35 000 new refugees. It does not exist at the moment".

"Then what do you suggest, Admiral?"

"Well.."

Plotkin stopped himself mid sentence. This was the first time he had taken a good, long look at Laura Roslin. He thought he saw something that he hadn't seen in over three hundred years.

"Admiral Adama, wait a few moments before you punch me in the face".

"Why would I..."

Before he could finish this sentence, Admiral Plotkin reached out and grabbed Roslin's chest.

"Breast cancer. I haven't seen a case like this in three hundred years. Don't you have any doctors in your fleet?"

Roslin was taken aback by this unorthodox method. How dare he? But he did have good intentions at heart, so why not play along.

"We do have physicians, but my cancer is untreatable".

"Fortunately for you, my medical officer is one of the finest doctors in the Federation. Just stop by sickbay before you leave. He will take care of you".

"He can treat my cancer?"

"He can cure it. Now you can hit me".

Paff. Adama's left hook connected with Plotkin's chin.

"Feel better now?"

"Yes. I needed that".

Though Roslin was thrilled to see Bill react this way, she was more thrilled with the prospect of surviving this disease.

"Can you direct me towards your sickbay, Admiral?"

"I can do better than that".

The Admiral tapped the gold pin on his chest.

"Plotkin to sickbay".

"Sickbay here, go ahead Admiral".

"John, I have a patient for you in Ten-Forward. Can you come up and get her?"

"My pleasure Admiral. Who is the patient?"

"It's the Colonial President".

"Well then, I will be as accommodating as possible. Sickbay out".

Lee had entered in time to see his father punch the Federation Admiral. He did not know what had caused the dispute, but he knew that his father had to have a good reason for socking someone. But why was this John going to see the President?

"What is going on?"

"Ah, Major. My doctor is about to cure your president of her ailment".

"He can do that?"

"Of course he can. He is one of the best programmed pieces of hardware in our fleet".

"What?"

Plotkin could see the confusion in the faces of all the Colonials. He knew how they felt about the Cylons. Hopefully they would be more receptive towards a holographic medic.

"John is a medical hologram. He is a machine programmed with the finest medical techniques in history. If anyone can cure you, he can".

"A machine. You want the President to seek treatment from a machine?"

"Correct me if I am wrong, Major, but you did not have a problem sleeping with one".

Starbuck had a mischievous grin on her face.

"Oh, really. Lee fracked a Cylon. Lee fracked a Cylon".

"It was a hologram, not a Cylon. Do you people group all sentient machines in the same category?"

At this moment, a bald man in a uniform entered. He was holding a rectangular object in his hand. He pushed a few buttons and the object began to emit these weird sounds.

"Do not be alarmed. It is only a scanning device".

"Says you. Back off toaster".

"I beg your pardon sir?"

"Careful Major, that is my chief medical officer you are referring to".

"Thank you Admiral. Madam President, it seems you have cancer. Are you receiving treatment?"

"No John, she isn't".

"Then I suggest you follow me".

Lee became alarmed. Was he really going to put the life of his President into the hands of a machine?

"Not alone".

"Fine, you may come along Major. Just try not to get in the way. Oh, and Admiral. In light of this development, I request permission to send away teams to the Colonial fleet".

"Denied".

"But Admiral, I am certain this is not an isolated incident. There are probably many ailments that we can cure with ease".

"I know John, but we do not have the medical supplies to help 35 000 people. I will contact Starfleet Command, and see if I can get one of our new medical ships out here".

"But Admiral, surely they will benefit from previous knowledge of the medical situation".

"I agree John, and that is why we are sending you over there. Alone".

"Alone?"

"I need someone who can move amongst the people unnoticed. Someone who can appear as one of them".

"Admiral, they are all human. Surely any member of my medical staff would suffice".

"I need someone who can mimic the things we can't. Clothing, smell, hygiene. As a hologram, you can alter yourself to fit in with them. I would rather not alarm them by sending strangers to check their health. And keep your tricorder hidden. Let us not forget the prime directive here".

"With all do respect, Admiral, I think they will notice that I do not belong there".

"Not if you disguise yourself as one of them. Say, as a certain loud mouthed captain who doesn't think she is seeing enough action".

Contrary to popular belief, Starbuck was a lot more clever than anyone would suspect. And she could always tell when she was being insulted.

"Hey".

"Admiral, identity theft goes against my programming".

"It is not theft. You are simply borrowing her identity for a few hours".

"What happens if someone tries to speak with me?"

"Keep it brief. Say frack every other sentence and you will do fine".

Lee could not help but laugh at this. Maybe these new comers were ok.

"Hey, that is not fair. I do not say frack every other sentence".

"You just did, ensign".

"Wait, I didn't mean. Oh frack"."Oops, she did it again".

"Very funny John. Now go and treat the President, then get ready for your away mission".

The doctor, the President, and the major all left the bar. Adama then turned toward his counterpart.

"You do know this isn't going to work, right? He is no Kara".

"From what ensign Thrace has told me, no one in your fleet trusts her anyway. It should not be difficult for John to get through. Any discrepancies will be attributed to your "toaster" theory".

"What if he runs into her husband?""Husband? You never mentioned him Thrace"

Poor Starbuck did not know what to say. Her own husband thought she was a Cylon. How could she tell anyone? And how could anyone trust her if Anders did not?

"I am sure you have your reasons. Oh, by the way Thrace, the medical ship will need an escort. Interested?"

This cheered up Starbuck. She was always happiest when she was in the cockpit.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir".

"You are fracking welcome. Did I use that correctly?"

Kara just smiled.

"Yes sir, your certainly did".

"Dismissed, Thrace".

Kara saluted, then turned to leave.

"One moment ensign".

It was Adama, her old commander. What did he want now?

"Be careful out there Starbuck".

"I will Admiral".

After Starbuck had left, a strange beep could be heard in Ten-Forward.

"Brig to Admiral Plotkin".

"Go ahead, brig".

"Sir, the prisoners are awake".

"Damn, I though the sedative would last longer. I am on my way. Care to join me Bill".

Adama found this perplexing.

"Why?"

"Well, you do have more experience with the Cylons. I have no idea what to do with them".

"In my opinion, you should throw them out the airlock as soon as possible".

"Noted. I will keep all my options open first. Let's greet my new guests".

USS Goliath, Brig:

Adama and Plotkin are greeted by a pair of Klingon security personnel. Without knowing the physical limitations of the Cylons, the Admiral had assigned members of his Klingon expeditionary force to guard duty.

"Kapla, Admiral"

"Kapla"

"Ka what?"

"Klingon greeting. Just pound your chest and say Kapla".

Adama did as he was told. When faced with two large men with ridged heads and sharp fangs, it was best not to offend them. They were probably as tough as they looked, if not tougher.

"When did our guests awaken".

"Just a few minutes ago".

The doors to the brig slid opened, revealing the three Cylon "guests" sitting up in one cell. Adama was shocked to see that nothing bared their escape.

"There are no doors or bars".

"We use force fields. They are more effective and more efficient than physical barricades".

Adama found this hard to believe, until the Three got up and walked into the force field. There was a flash, the Cylon let out a cry of pain and fell on her ass.

"Very impressive, Admiral".

"Eh, we try".

Having regained her composure, the Three stood up and addressed her captors.

"How long have we been prisoners here".

"You have been asleep for forty eight hours".

This time, it was the dark haired woman that spoke up.

"How dare you hold us. We have done nothing wrong. You have no right to keep us hostage".

In the middle of these futile protestations, one of the Klingons handed their commander a data pad. On it was the results from the Romulan brain probes.

"It seems you knew nothing of the failed invasion".

"What invasion? This is the first I have heard of it"

"I just said that you did not know. Anyway, your people organized eight large fleets in an attempt to invade the Federation. We intercepted all eight fleets and completely annihilated seven of them. The eighth fleet surrendered".

"Oh good", exclaimed the old man. "Now we will have new neighbours in our cells".

"I am afraid not, my good man. A peace treaty was signed between the Federation, the Twelve Colonies, and the Cylons. Your war is over".

"Even better. Time to start packing".

"No. Will you please let me finish".

"Sorry"

"Anyway, I discussed your return with the Cylon high command. Considering your gambit has reduced your numbers by seven eighths, you are no longer welcome. You are exiled from the other Cylons".

Brother Cavels jaw dropped. Boomer hid her head in her hands and began to weep, and Three was completely dumbstruck. Three days ago, she had a home and a fleet of hundreds of ships. Now that fleet was all but obliterated, and she was an outcast.

"What do you intend to do with us?"

"That is up to you, my lady. Lower the force fields".

The Klingons obeyed without protestation. There was a brief flash, then Three reached out her hand. The strange field that had imprisoned them had vanished. Try as she did, she could not understand these people.

"Do you have a name?"

"Number Three. These are Number Eight and Number Four".

"That is all, just numbers? You do not have a proper name?"

"We are only machines", answered the old man designated Number Four. "What use do we have with names".

"My chief medical officer is a machine, and he has a name. It's John".

"John", replied Number Three. "Who came up with that?"

"He did. He has free will, and is treated as just another member of the crew. Granted he doesn't eat or sleep, but he is still part of my crew. What name would you like, dear lady?"

This display made Adama nauseous. These were not doctors, and they were not holograms. They were Cylons, murders.

"Admiral, may I speak to you in private?"

"Of course. Mr. Rajenko".

One of the Klingons stepped forward. A very young man named Alexander Rajenko. The Cylons recognized him as the soldier that searched their craft.

"Escort our guests to their new quarters"

"Yes sir".

As the Cylons were lead out of the brig, the two admirals stayed behind. Once the security personnel had cleared out, Adama turned to Plotkin.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I beg your pardon?""Those are Cylons!"

"Admiral, the Federation does not pass judgment based on race. If it did, we would not have one hundred and fifty member Planets".

"Try to understand. These people wiped out our civilization. Immagine if the Borg had.."

"Don't bother finishing that sentence Admiral. I already have a Borg on my payroll".

"You do?"

"Well, we don't actually get paid, but you get the idea. She works in research and development".

"Admiral, do you hate the Borg?"

"With a passion, Admiral. But Seven, that is her name by the way, has been invaluable to us. Her weaponry modifications have been crucial in many victories. And her husband put in a good word for her".

"Her husband?"

"A Starfleet captain named Chekotay. The Federation owes much to him and his crew. So I decided to give his Borg wife a shot. And I have not regretted that decision".

"I guess you can't judge a book by its species".

"That must be a Colonial analogy. I have never heard it before, but yes. That is essentially it".

"And you believe these Cylons will turn out like this, Seven creature".

"Woman. And I believe in giving everyone a chance. If I live to regret that chance, rest assured they won't live at all".

"I will be returning to Galactica. Good luck with the Cylons, Admiral. You will need it".

"Is that the voice of experience, or the voice of hatred Admiral?"

"Both".

Admiral Plotkin knew understood Adama's feelings. As a fellow genocide survivor, he knew that it was hard to forgive and forget. But the war was over, and this could be the beginning of a new age. The Klingons and the Federation had been sworn enemies for centuries. Now they were the closest allies. Granted, it was Section 31's intervention that crushed the anti-Federation movement following the Kitemer Accords. Perhaps one day, the Cylons and Colonials could be brothers in arms, just as the Federation and Klingons are.

"Bridge to Admiral Plotkin. The NX Pasteur has arrived".

"Excellent. It seems your people will be getting aid a lot sooner than expected.

USS Goliath, Cylon Quarters:

Ensign Rojenko had escorted the Cylons to their quarters just as he had been instructed to.

"If you need any help adjusting to your new surroundings, just ask".

The tall blond turned towards the short, ridged head young man.

"Now that you mention it, we are a bit hungry. Where is your mess hall?""No. We don't use mess halls. Here let me show you".

The young Klingon walked into the room and approached the food replicator.

"This is a food replicator. You tell it whatever you feel like eating, and it makes it for you".

The old man ventured a suggestion.

"I could do for a steak, medium rare, please".

"Ok. One steak, medium rare".

The machine made a beeping sound followed by a strange white light. A steak appeared from out of nowhere, along with a fork and knife.

"Here, try it".

Brother Cavel cut a piece of the steak and took a bite.

"Delicious. How do you store these meats?"

"We don't store them. We replicate them".

"Replicate? If this is not real beef, then what the hell am I eating".

"No, you don't understand. These machines transform energy into matter. It works like a transporter. The energy is rearranged until it matches the desired food, right down to the molecular level. That is real beef that you are eating, it has just been "grown" from pure energy. Do you understand?"

"No. But I like it".

The dark haired woman turned to the young ensign.

"What else can it make?"

"The replicator has been programmed with the food and drink from hundreds of worlds spanning the Federation, the Klingon and the Romulan empires. There are literally thousands of choices".

Sharon was impressed. Thousands of types of food, made from scratch. No storage, no cooking. Just energy. Number three had other things on her mind.

"What about clothing?"

"We do replicate everything we need. Food, drink, weapons, clothing. Unfortunately for you, the civilian clothing replicators have been removed in order to accommodate enhanced weaponry. This is a warship, after all".

"I see. So we are stuck in the clothes on our backs for the rest of our lives".

"I will bring this up with the Admiral. But I cannot promise anything".

Alexander left the Cylons and returned to his post. After his shift was over, he sent a message to command that the Cylons had requested a change of clothing.

"I may not know much about being a Klingon. But I know a Klingon always keeps his word".

Battlestar Galacitca, Hangar Deck:

Fresh medical supplies, staff, and equipment were being transported onto the Galactica. The Doctor had abandoned his Starbuck disguise and was directing the new recruits.

"No, no. The med kits are to be distributed evenly amongst the civilian populations. Their Admiral has insisted that the civilians take priority over military personnel".

Dock Cottle had recently arrived from the Galactica sick bay. He walked over to the Doctor and shook his hand.

"Cottle, Galactica chief medical officer".

"Hello. EMH Mark 1. Chief medical officer, USS Goliath".

"What does EMH stand for?"

"Emergency Medical Hologram. I am a machine programmed to treat all known species in the Galaxy".

"Whatever you are, you are a godsend. I don't know how much longer we would have lasted without resupply".

"Pardon my interpretation. Are you a competent doctor, or just someone who was promoted in the heat of battle?"

Cottle had never been more insulted in his life. How dare this machine question his medical background?

"I beg your pardon. I could have sworn you just said that I was not a real doctor".

"You obviously are not a good one. I have seen over a thousand cases on this ship alone that any competent doctor could cure".

"You mean like my cancer, Mr. John".

The voice came out of nowhere. The two doctors spun around to see Laura Roslin, grinning from ear to ear. She was beaming with light. Cottle had never seen her this way.

"Madam President".

"I'm cured doctor. My cancer has been cured. I haven't fealt this good since before the fall of the Colonies. I don't care where they say you are from John. You are an angel".

"Thank you for your praise, Madam President. At the moment, I have thousands of lives to save. Excuse me".

Cottle watched as John marched off to give directions. He obviously had talent. After all, he had cured Roslin. But that man was the most annoying son of a bitch he had ever met. With one exception.

"Smug bastard, isn't he".

"That may be true. But we need his help".

Roslin and Cottle head off to discuss the medical situation of the fleet with John. It is better to swallow your pride, than let thousands die needlessly. But once the medical disasters were under control, Cottle was going to request that the Doctor be upgraded with some bedside manner protocols.

"You'd almost think he was Baltar".

Roslin could not help but laugh at this.

USS Goliath, Cylon Quarters:

Admiral Plotkin approached the door and pushed the buzzer. What was it about this blond that interested him? Sure enough it was his facinitaion that answered the door, in a Starfleet uniform.

"Good evening miss.."

"Three".

"You still don't have a name. No problem. It's your call".

"Why are you here Admiral?"

"Just checking in. Making sure you were integrating with Federation life".

"Thank you for your hospitality, Admiral. The clothing was a welcome change. Though it is a bit sore on the eyes".

"Uniforms are not designed for fashion".

At this moment, the Doctor arrived, escorting yet another tall, blond woman.

"Caprica, good to see you again"."You know this woman?"

At this point, the doctor spoke up.

"This is Miss Caprica Six. She was a Cylon prisoner of war aboard the Galactica. I managed to secure her release".

"And I thank you for that, sir".

"What is wrong John?"

"Admiral?"

"Don't bullshit me John, I've known you too long. What is it old friend?"

"I believe the Colonials have been insulting me, but I do not understand the insult. It is frustrating".

"What did they say? Was it Frak? Because I know what that one means".

"No. They kept saying that I was a Baltar. What in the name of medicine is a Baltar?"

Upon hearing the name Baltar, Six and Three stared at each other and started to laugh.

"I take it you know what it means".

"Just an inside joke, Admiral".

"Bridge to Admiral Plotkin".

The admiral touched the gold pin on his chest.

"Go ahead bridge".

"Sir, I think you should come to the briefing room".

"On my way. John, you're with me".

"Will someone please tell me what a Baltar is?"

"Later John".

Battlestar Galactica, CIC:

"Madam President, I am pleased to inform you that we are distributing the new medicines throughout the fleet".

"That is good news Bill. This will save a lot of lives".

"Sir, it's Admiral Plotkin".

Adama picked up his handset.

"What is it?"

"You are to follow the Pasteur to Starbase 79. We have a war to fight".

"Anything we can do to help?"

"No Bill. Keep your wireless open, I'm about to make an announcement".

Over the wireless, Admiral Plotkin can be heard.

"Attention all ships. Moments ago, our intelligence informed us of an immanent military coup in the Romulan Empire. As you know, the Romulan Senate has never been more open in relations with the Federation. The Tal Shiar wishes to conquer us, and they will stop at nothing to end relations with the Federation. We are to proceed to Romulus, along with the Sutherland and the Prometheus, and we will hold the line. It will be hours until our fleet will receive the green light to intervene, so we must hold. If we don't, we will lose our best chance at establishing an alliance with the Romulan Empire. Anyone not ready for war had better get off. All Section personnel are to return to their posts. We leave immediately".

Within the hour, the fleet was made battle ready. All Federation officers were returned to their posts. The Colonial Fleet departed towards the Federation Starbase, escorted by the Pasteur. The Section 31 battle group, along with the Cylons and Starbuck, headed off to Romulus.

To be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

We're going to need new pilots.

Romulus:

USS Goliath, Battle Bridge:

"The Warbirds have entered the mine field. They are maneuvering around the mines".

"All ships, fire phasers at the mines. Blow those bastards to bits".

The Section 31 task force fires its weapons directly into the mines. The anti-matter explosives detonate, ripping apart the first wave of Romulans.

"Second wave approaching".

"Hold until relieved all ships, open fire".

Battlefield over Romulus:

"Damage report".

"Sir, we have hull breaches on deck twenty one".

The helm consol explodes, killing the Andorian. Admiral Plotkin resumes helm control.

"Battle Bridge to Saucer, what is your status".

"We are taking heavy damage. Those Romulan weasles have us surrounded by Defenders".

The Defender class was a Romulan two person fighter. Faster, more manoeuvrable, and more powerful than its Starfleet counterpart, the Defender was an air supremacy fighter. It could be lethal against capital ships.

"Goliath to Sovereign. Keep those Defenders off the Saucer Section. Rip them from the sky".

The USS Sovereign, a Sovereign class starship, approached from the left flank. Within moments, it had cleared the Saucer section of fighters with its massive phaser banks. Two Warbids hit it from the center, but the Sovereign destroyed them with a barrage of plasma torpedoes. They were still heavily outnumbered.

"This is the Atlantis, we have exhausted our torpedoes. Phasers still operational. Request assistance".

"Roger that Atlantis. All fighters, protect the Atlantis. Keeps those Defenders off her so she can strike the Warbirds. Over".

"Red one to Goliath, they are all over us. My Squadron is being ripped to shreds".

"Hold the line Ensign Thrace".

"Easy for you to say, you don't have a Defender on your ass".

"Sir, the Romulans have destroyed half of our fighters".

"This is the Atlantis, we have a warp core breach. Keep your distance. Repeat, keep your..."

The Atlantis explodes. The four Warbirds that had surrounded her turn to the Crazy Horse. The Prometheus, Sovereign, and Goliath are demolishing Warbirds with their plasma torpedoes. But they are still heavily outnumbered.

"This is the Crazy Horse, all weapons are offline. Permission to punch out over".

Punch out referred to a suicide run. The Romulan Senate must be defended under any circumstances. They had no choice.

"Goliath to Crazy Horse, you have the all clear. God Speed. Prometheus, screen the Crazy Horse. Make sure she makes it".

With the Prometheus's three sections providing cover fire, the Crazy Horse heads straight for the Romulan command ship.

Romulan Warbird, Bridge:

"Admiral, the Starfleet vessels is headed straight for us".

"They wouldn't".

"Yes they would".

"All hands brace for impact".

The two vessels collide and explode.

Battlefield over Romulus:

"Frack me, I've just lost my wingman".

"Keep it together Thrace".

The Battle Section of the Goliath moves in to provide cover fire for the remaining fighters. Enhanced phaser fire erupts from the vessel, creating the appearance of a big red porcupine. Romulan Defenders are exploding in all directions, as the Goliath is pummelled by Warbirds.

"Gods dam it. Starbuck, Goliath. We are getting killed out here".

"Hold the line. This is the closest we have ever come to an alliance with the Romulan Senate".

An explosion rocks the battle bridge, as the communications officer is flung through the air. Number Three enters the bridge.

"Anything I can do".

"How the hell did you get here? Security, take this woman back to her quarters".

Another consol explodes, killing the second helmsman. The Admiral is flying solo.

"Delay that order. Sit at the consol and help me fly this crate".

"This is Commander Roe. We have hull breaches throughout the saucer section. We can't hold much longer".

"We are moving to assist. Excalibur, you're on my wing".

"Copy that Admiral".

The two starships begin to coordinate their fire on the Romulan Warbids. Their phaser and torpedo barrages manage to take some pressure off the Saucer Section. Unfortunately, they are now being bombarded from both flanks.

"This is the Excalibur. Our phasers are off line, request assistance"

"Copy that Excalibur, Sovereign moving to assist".

"Prometheus here. Right behind you Sutherland".

The remaining starships serve in and out, attempting to cut through the Romulan lines. The Soveriegn rips into the Romulan left flank, with the Prometheus attacking the right. Warbirds are exploding in all directions, under the barrage of advanced weapons fire. The two advanced ships are screening the Goliath and Excalibur from Romulan weapons fire. The Federation vessels are still surrounded.

"We need a miracle here".

"Sir, two fleets moving in to the party.

"Affiliation?"

"One is Starfleet. The other is Klingon".

Like angels, the two fleets charge the Romulan flanks. The Starfleet vessels unleash a devasting barrage into the Romulan right flank. The Klingon Cruisers rip through the Romulan left flank, demolishing the Warbirds. Klingon Bird of Preys peel off from the cruisers and attack the Defenders.

Leading the Federation task force is the USS Enterprise.

"Captain Picard to surviving vessels, sorry we are late. It took awhile for the council to vote in favour of aiding the Romulan Government".

"This is General Va Tok. You men have fought with the spirit of Kalus. Let the Empire now take the blunt of the battle".

The Klingon Warships unleash a devastating barrage of torpedoes and disruptors onto the Warbird, shredding them to bits. The Defenders are torn apart by Birds of Prey.

The assortment of Starfleet and Klingon warships tear through the Romulan lines. In all directions, the attacking Romulan Rebels are being obliterated. Within hours of the original uprising, the Romulan coup has been crushed.

Starbase 79:

The Klingon fleet takes up position to the north of the facility, with the Federation fleet situated to the south. The USS Goliath, Sovereign, Prometheus, and Excalibur enter spacedock for repairs. All vessels are heavily damaged, and have taken substantial loss to their crews. The Goliath is situated to the left of the Colonial Fleet, which is also undertaking repairs in space dock.

"Admiral Adama".

Adama turned around to see Admiral Plotkin approaching him. His face was almost completely black, and his arm was in a sling.

"Good to see you Bill".

"Sound like you had quite a ride out there".

"That is one of things I would like to talk to you about".

Starbuck walked up to the two admirals.

"Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Permission granted Lieutenant".

"I thought she was an ensign?""I Promoted her. She might have a big mouth, but she is one hell of a fighter pilot. Now what was it you wanted to say?"

"Your fighters suck".

"Thank you for being forward about that".

"They are too slow, they manoeuvre horribly, and they lack sufficient firepower"."They are still better than those Vipers you were flying before".

"Regardless, they are inferior to the Defender. It was like being in a flying coffin".

"Do you think you could design a better fighter?"

"Sir?"

"Ms. Monroe, contact the Yorktown. Tell them they will have one more passenger on the trip to Earth".

"Earth?"

"I want you to corroborate with our top designer, Seven of Nine. Make me a fighter built to a pilot's specifications. One that will burn the Defender from the skies".

"With pleasure, sir. I might even get paid this time".

"Don't push your luck Thrace".

Kara marched off to meet the Yorktown, leaving to two Admirals alone. Temporarily.

"Now, where was I?"

"Who was Ms. Monroe?"

"What? Oh, she's my orderly. Don't you have one Admiral?"

"The Galactica is a bit understaffed at the moment".

"That is what I wanted to talk to you about".

But before Admiral Plotkin could begin his request, Number Three approached.

"Good afternoon Admirals. I hope I am not interrupting".

"Well, if it isn't the woman with the golden hands. Are you sure you have never done that before?"

Three was taken aback, and Adama shot a glance at Admiral Plotkin.

"It's not what you think Bill. Three flew the Goliath after the helmsman was killed. She did it like a pro".

Three smiled at the Admiral.

"It was nothing. The controls are similar to those on a Basestar".

"How would you like to make the arrangement full time?"

"Excuse me?"

"I need a helmsman with field experience. My two guys were killed. If you want the job, it's yours".

Three thought for a few moments, then accepted.

"I guess it's time that I sang for my supper".

"You do have a beautiful voice".

"Admiral! Are you flirting with me?"

The Admiral was visibly embarrassed. He hadn't hit on anyone since his first wife was killed eighty three years ago. He was out of practice, and possibly out of his league. Three just laughed and turned to walk away.

"By the way ensign, I was wondering if I could spend the night?"

"You'll have to buy me dinner first".

"Ah, allow me to explain. There is now a large hole where my quarters used to be and I need a place to sleep. The starbase is full of Colonials. Unless you have a problem with my staying on the couch?"

"Oh, not at all. I just thought..."

"I'm forward, Ms. Three. But not that forward".

She just smiled and left. While Admiral Plotkin looked embarrassed, Admiral Adama looked disgusted.

"I take it you don't approve".

"Just get to the point".

"Admiral".

It was Jean Luc Picard, the Captain of the Federation flagship. Though the Enterprise was the largest vessel in the fleet, it was not the most powerful. That was the Prometheus, a Section 31 warship.

"Hello Jean Luc".

"You will be pleased to know that a new treaty has been signed between the Romulan Senate and the Federation Council. We are finally allies".

"Nothing like sacrificing two of your ships and their crews to save a bunch of Romulan politicians to further cement our relations. Do you think it was worth it, Picard?"

"For a lasting peace with the Romulans, I think every sacrifice is worth it. Don't you Admiral?"

"Only time will tell, Picard. Let's just hope the peace lasts".

"Amen to that Admiral. Excuse me".

Picard left to rejoin his crew.

"That sums it up in a nutshell, Admiral. I need replacements".

"I see. And you thought you could cannibalize my fleet for yours".

"No, I just need pilots. Experienced pilots".

"I thought the Federation had unlimited resources and manpower".

"We have manpower and ships to spare. But I need combat veterans. My guys were veterans of the Dominion Wars. Now they are dead".

"And I'm just supposed to give you my pilots".

"Wake up and smell the raptageno Admiral. Your ships and fighters are pathetic compared to ours. You wouldn't last five seconds in a firefight. At least in Section 31, you could fight for a better Galaxy".

Adama had to think this through.

"We have a 80 casualty rate, but it is decreasing with further advances in technology. When our new fighters and warships are ready, it should be down to less than 60".

"That is still a lot of people, Admiral".

"That is why we only use volunteers. Section 31 handles the jobs that Starfleet can't. We still have unlimited manpower for our starships. I just need a few squads of fighter pilots".

"I'll get back to you on this".

"That was not the answer I was looking for".

"These are Colonial citizens. I need permission from the President and the Quorum of Twelve".

"Well, let me know if I have pilots. Otherwise I have to start drafting people from Starfleet, and there is a shortage of experienced fighter pilots".

Adama left to speak with the civilian government. Commander Roe approached her commander, followed by Ensign Three and the other Cylons.

"Commander, Ensign".

The old Cylon spoke up.

"We heard that you were hiring".

"What experience do you have?"

The dark haired woman turned to the Admiral.

"I was a Raptor pilot".

"What is a Raptor?"

"It's a type of fighter bomber".

"Good, we need pilots. You're hired. As for the rest of you, I will find you positions later on".

Roe turned to the Admiral.

"Sir, we need to start finding replacements for key positions".

"Agreed. Let's head to the bar and start refilling the ranks".

As the group approaches the bar, the song Boogey Woogey can be heard in the background.

"Oh no. I forgot what day it was".

"Sir, may I remind you we are no longer on the Goliath".

"You know what Roe, I don't care".

Admiral Plotkin removed his side-arm form its holster. Three began to get nervous.

"What is he going to do?"

No one had to answer. The Admiral entered the bar, pointed his phaser, and blasted the juke box.

"With four heavily damaged starships in spacedock, I find it hard to believe that none of you have work to do. Snap to it".

The Starfleet officers all filed in and headed out. The Klingons began to cheer and applaud.

"Thank you my friend. That noise was infuriating".

"You are quite welcome General. And thank you for coming to the rescue".

"The Klingon Empire is always willing to aid our Federation allies".

"And claim Romulan territory for the Empire".

"I believe there is an old Earth saying. How does it go? Oh yes, to the victor go the spoils".

"Amen to that, General".

At that moment, Kara Thrace walked into the bar. She was followed by Ms. Munroe and behind her, was Samuel Anders.

"Good morning John".

Within seconds, the image of Kara Thrace was replaced with a balding man in a Starfleet uniform.

"How did you know it was me?"

"The real Kara Thrace is enroute to Earth. Is that the new dossier, Ensign".

"Yes sir. What happened in here?"

"Thank you ensign. Oh, I shot the jukebox".

The Doctor seemed almost panic stricken.

"You fired your weapon in a starbase. Are you insane?"

"Watch it John. I am still your commanding officer".

"What in heaven's name would posses you to do such a thing?""I hate first contact day".

"Well that hardly...""Did you know Zefram Cochrane, John?"

"Admiral, that is hardly the point".

"I did. And the real Zefram Cochrane was nothing like the one in the history books".

"Well everyone exaggerates, but that still doesn't excuse..."

"The real Zefram Cochrane was an alcoholic coward. He only invented warp drive so he could get rich. But everyone remembers him as this heroic explorer out to better mankind. When the Borg attacked, Cochrane ran for his life while he staff died trying to protect the Phoenix. The rat".

"The Borg? What do the Borg.."

"That's right John. Humanity had contact with alien species centuries before Cochrane. In the 1960's, my best friend on Earth was a Vulcan. But no one ever wants to talk about that. No. No one wants to admit that alien races were influencing the development of humanity long before warp drive. Did you know Vulcans gave Velcro to humanity?"

This was all news to everyone in the bar. With the exception of the Enterprise crew, who actually saved Cochrane and the Phoenix from the Borg attack.

"But no one wants to admit this. So every year for three hundred and twenty plus years, we put on this farce about making first contact with an alien species. Don't kid yourself John. I witnessed first contact with the Fenergi in 1947, and the Vulcans in the 1960's".

Three waited for him to finish his ranting. Then she asked her question.

"And what about you Admiral? When did your species first encounter humans?"

"See, this is exactly what I am talking about. We were the first to contact humans. Humans and Vulcans have known each other since the twentieth century. We have known humans since the days of Mark Twain".

"Who?"

"Sorry, Earth reference. Since the nineteenth century".

"And what century is it now?"

"It is the last two decades of the twenty fourth century. I have known humans since the twentieth".

"You spent the past four hundred years with humans?"

"Three hundred of them in this uniform. Speaking of which".

The Admiral stopped talking and started to look over his troop manifest. More accurately, what was left of his troops. The Klingon general started laughing.

"I have always said that humans were tools".

"Very useful ones my friend. Is this all that's left?"

"Yes sir".

"You may leave Ensign".

The orderly did just that. She had heard information that contradicted every history book she had ever read. This was a lot to process. As she left the room, she passed Sam Anders. The poor guy was still in shock from seeing his wife turn into a man.

"We need two ships to replace the Atlantis and Crazy Horse. How about the Dauntless and the Endeavour?"

"They are both Excelsior Class ships sir"."Exactly. They are larger and more powerful than the Nebula Class".

"They are also a larger target, Sir".

"With stronger shields".

"Ok, we'll take them both. Who do you want in command?"

"I was thinking of giving the Dauntless to Shelby".

"Shelby?"

"Do you have a problem with Commander Shelby?"

"She is not from Section 31".

"But she does have more battlefield experience than most of our new recruits. She is also experienced with new and experimental technologies and with Black Ops missions".

"All right. We'll contact her as soon as possible. I'm sure she will be thrilled to have her own command. What about the Endeavour?"

"The Endeavour? What about Anders? He has always wanted his own ship".

"Anders bought it in the last attack".

"Dam it. Anders is dead?"

"No I'm not".

The Federation officers turned around to see a young man in a uniform. It was not Federation, so they assumed he was a Colonial.

"No, not you Anders. Lt. Commander Anders, our Anders".

"Oh".

"Who are you anyway?"

"Ensign Samuel T Anders. Why did my wife turn into a bald guy?"

"What? Oh, you must be Mr. Thrace".

"No. She is Mrs. Anders".

"Well, don't worry. This is my chief medical officer. Your wife is off to Earth, to design a new fighter for me".

Anders turned around and went back to his drink.

"Now we need a new number three man. How about Jefferson?"

"He also bought the big one. How about Caleb?"

"He doesn't have the experience. What about Tuvok?"

"Well sir, he has the experience and the skills. But who will take over as tactical officer?"

The Admiral turned to Anders.

"You, do you have any battlefield experience?"

"Well, I was the leader of the Caprican resistance and one of the leaders of the New Caprican resistance".

"Any experience with explosives?"

"Yes".

"Tactical experience?"

"Yes"

"Experience with various weapons and battlefield tactics?"

"Yes".

"Good. Congratulations, you're my new tactical officer. Ms. Munroe, have Mr. Anders outfitted for a uniform".

"Yes sir".

Ms. Munroe re-entered the bar, walked up to Sam, and escorted him out.

"We still need one new helmsman, and a communications officer".

"As for the helmsman, I was thinking of Mr. Crusher".

"I agree. Wesley would be my choice as well. As for the communications officer, I was thinking of Icheb".

"Icheb? The Borg Boy?"

"Why not? He is enthusiastic, intelligent, motivated, experienced. He has served USS Voyager with distinction and is a perfectionist. He is everything we are looking for".

"He is also very young. I also have a problem with a cadet that passed the academy through the mail".

"Are you sure that is the only problem, Admiral?"

It was at this point that Adama, Roslin, and an unknown man walked in. This man was Tom Zarek, but the Vice President had not been introduced to the Federation.

"Minor disagreement Admiral?"

"This is a Federation matter Madam President. I would advise you to stay out of it".

"Admiral Plotkin is objecting to making a Borg his communications officer".

"It has nothing to do with him being a Borg Roe. My top designer is a Borg".

"She is also on Earth. Icheb would be standing a few feet behind you".

"This is not a personal matter, Roe. I don't think he is old enough to join our ranks".

"What is a Borg?"

Admiral Adama chose to answer this question.

"The Borg are a race of aliens that wiped out the planet El Auria".

"This has nothing to do with my homeworld. I have used Borg in the past and will continue to do so".

"He does have a good record, Sir".

"Fine, let's give him a shot. Just make sure I don't live to regret this Roe. Now what is it you wanted to discuss with me, Madam President?"

"I understand you are looking for pilots".

"Experienced pilots are preferable".

"We can help you, for a price".

"You are hardly in a possession to haggle, Madam President".

From this point, Zarek took over negotiations.

"Here is the deal. You need pilots with combat experience. We need a homeworld. I'm sure we can come to an agreement that is mutually beneficial".

"I can't do anything for you unless you are Federation Citizens".

"Can't you speed up the process?"

"Only for volunteer officers and their families. The rest of you will have to wait, and that can take years".

"You will not receive any more volunteers unless we are gaurunteed a safe home".

"Here is my last offer. There are members of the council that still owe me a few favors. I will pull some strings on your acceptance into the Federation, in exchange for pilots. And for Admiral Adama".

"Why do you need him?"

"I need an experienced commander for the USS Endeavour. He is the most experienced commander I have met here. Take it or leave it".

"I will make a substitution for the Admiral. Major Adama was a fine commander of the Battlestar Pegasus".

"Do we have a deal?"

"Deal"

Thus ends one story. Of course, for many new members of Section 31, this is only the beginning. The beginning of many battles, many adventures and many new allies.


End file.
